


lift the veil

by vlieger



Category: Princess Diaries - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger/pseuds/vlieger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>movieverse fix-it fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lift the veil

**Author's Note:**

> "For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm of the music; perhaps...perhaps...love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath."
> 
> \-- L. M. Montgomery, _Anne of Avonlea_

So being a queen kind of sucked. The thing about fairytale endings was that there's really no such thing as an ending; there are moments, and in the heat of these moments you forget that there are other moments to follow, and consequently they're generally a bit of a let-down. 

Mia figured she should know this by now. First Michael, and now Nicholas. Fool me once and all that. 

It wasn't like it was _bad_ , as such. Or well, it sucked, but mostly it just turned out that she hadn't really known Nicholas as well as she thought she had, and Nicholas hadn't been as ready for the whole royal life as he thought he had, and they'd mostly mutually agreed to end things while they could still smile at each other and not be too horribly bitter about everything. 

It just sucked, was all. 

Yeah, she was only twenty-one, but she was also queen of an entire country, and that added the equivalent weight of a good few years, as far as she was concerned. 

Plus, her Grandma and Joe were kind of sickeningly happy. 

"Grandma," said Mia over a blessedly informal dinner, "Maybe you should re-take the crown for a while."

"Oh, heavens no, I'm having far too much fun," said Clarisse, smiling at Joe.

Mia scowled down at her soup. 

"And kindly remove that ridiculous expression," added Clarisse. "What on earth is wrong?"

"I guess I just thought I'd have it a bit more together by the time I was queen," said Mia. 

"Ah," said Joe. "Nicholas."

"No, not Nicholas," said Mia, scowling. 

Joe raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, okay, yes, Nicholas." Mia sighed. "I mean, not him, exactly, but I guess it would just be nice to have-- someone, you know?"

"Mia," said Clarisse. "I would think if you've learned anything from the events of the past few months it would be that you do not need a man to help you rule."

"I know I don't _need_ one," said Mia. "But it's nice to have a partner for these things, right? Just someone who's _there_. If you're-- whatever. If you want one."

"It most certainly is," said Clarisse, smiling at Joe. 

"See, I can still be a feminist and want a husband," said Mia. "Boyfriend. Someone. Whatever."

"You're only twenty-one, princess," said Joe. He still hadn't broken the habit of calling her 'princess' and probably never would. Mia couldn't bring herself to mind.

"I know." Mia sighed.

"Shall I ask Clément to send up some icecream for dessert?" said Clarisse. Similarly, she still fell more naturally to the day-to-day intricacies of running the palace than Mia. 

Mia wasn't too fussed about that, either. "Yes, please," she said. "Chocolate?"

"Very well," said Clarisse.

 

Mia stopped short behind a potted sapling just out of sight of the front doors, before which someone in suspiciously casual clothing was standing. 

She huddled closer to the plant and peered around the staircase, blinking confusedly because Michael-- her highschool boyfriend Michael, Lilly's brother Michael, Michael who she hadn't seen in nearly two years-- was leaning on the stone banister with a suitcase at his feet, and he looked _good_. Not that he'd ever looked bad, but.

He'd filled out, shoulders pushing sharp but not overly so against the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

His jaw was shadowed with stubble and his hair had changed in some undefinable way from trying to be cool-long to just _cool_. 

Mia leaned closer, straining her neck. 

The pot promptly gave way beneath the added weight and went crashing to the ground, tree and all with her on top of it, presenting her in a grand sweep of dirt to the foot of the stairs. 

"Oops!" she said, springing to her feet. "Michael, hi. What-- what are you doing here?" She beamed probably manically and brushed haphazardly at her knees. 

Michael's eyes crinkled amusedly. His smile was still slow, mostly hidden about his mouth but bright beneath his bangs. 

"I see queendom hasn't improved much on your coordination," he said. "Hey. I'm here because we're starting to wonder whether you've performed some special kind of Genovian brainwash on Lilly. New semester's two weeks away, you know."

"Is it?" said Mia. "I mean yeah, no, no brainwashing, don't worry. I think Lilly's here mostly as some kind of social experiment she's planning to take back to Berkeley with her."

"Not the best friend thing?" said Michael.

"I think that's worn off by now," said Mia, nodding. "Coincided suspiciously with the pink bridesmaid dress incident."

"Yeah," said Michael. He shuffled a little awkwardly, hands in his pockets. "So what's up with that?"

"Uh," said Mia. "It's-- it's a really long story."

"I'll bet," said Michael. "So you got engaged to this guy so you could be queen, then you called off the wedding and abolished a five-hundred year-old law in the process, started dating this other guy, got crowned Queen of Genovia, and then you guys broke up."

"Huh," said Mia. "Wow, okay, maybe it's not such a long story. Ridiculous maybe, when you put it like that. Lilly's been keeping you updated, huh?"

"Lilly and the rest of the global media," said Michael, nodding.

"Oh, right," said Mia. "That."

"Yeah," said Michael.

"In my defence, there was actually a pretty decent amount of time between the coronation and the break-up," said Mia. 

"That's-- awesome," said Michael slowly.

Mia bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. "You know, I mean, I'm not as fickle as it may seem."

"Got it," said Michael. 

The subsequent not entirely comfortable silence was interrupted by Lilly, running out of the palace brandishing a clipboard and shouting, "Mia, Mia, did you know the Genovian pear industry is one of the only industries in the world that capitalises on both its premier natural resource as well as its labour? I mean-- " She stopped in the entranceway, eyes wide. 

"Hey, sis," said Michael. 

"You-- " said Lilly, marching forward and slapping him upside the head with her clipboard. 

"Hey!" said Michael, ducking and shielding his head with the crook of his elbow. "Ow. You can't do that, I'm a rock star now."

"You're not a rock star, you're a doofus," said Lilly, glaring. 

"What did I do?" said Michael. 

"Oh, what did you do?" said Lilly loudly, rolling her eyes. "What did you _do?_ " She tucked the clipboard under her arm and held up five fingers. "You didn't come to Mia's wedding, which I specifically invited you to and you don't just turn down an invitation to a _royal wedding_ , you complete moronic ingrate-- "

"-- We had a gig in New York, I couldn't-- " protested Michael, cutting his eyes at Mia. 

"-- You haven't returned the _five million_ calls I-- "

"-- Oh, come on, it was barely five, if-- "

"-- You didn't go home for mom's birthday and I spent two hours on the phone listening to her cry about her ungrateful children and-- "

"-- Okay, that is totally unfair, you didn't go home either, and-- "

"-- At least you were in the same country!" said Lilly, brandishing the two fingers she still had standing. "You're the one who was _expected_ to go home, not me."

Michael folded his arms. "Is there anything else, or are those fingers just for show?" he said. 

"This one is," said Lilly, holding up her middle finger. 

"Classy," said Michael dryly. "At the royal palace, too."

"They love me here," said Lilly smugly. "I've even been offered a job."

"You have?" said Mia. 

"Well, not officially, but you totally need an advisor," said Lilly. 

"Oh, right," said Mia. 

"Does she get a say in it?" said Michael. "Does _the queen_ get a say in it?"

"You don't get a say in whether or not she gets a say," said Lilly, "On account of how you've been M.I.A. for the last two hundred years."

"It's really adult, the way you don't blow things out of proportion at all," said Michael thoughtfully. 

Lilly huffed out a breath. "I guess you can come in," she said at last. 

"Thanks," said Michael, rolling his eyes. "Mia," he added pointedly, "Your Highness, Queen of Genovia, whose palace we're standing in front of, is it okay if I come in?"

"Huh?" said Mia. Lilly and Michael looked at her expectantly. "Oh, right, queen, palace, yeah. Come on in, make yourself at home."

"Why thank you," said Michael, tipping her a little bow, palm splayed over his stomach and mouth turned up just the right side of mocking on his way past.

Mia supposed the way her breath caught at that wasn't exactly the greatest sign. 

"Oh, man," she said to one of the guards, pausing for a moment before following them inside. 

 

Michael whistled as he looked around the guest bedroom they'd allocated him. "Wow," he said, running a hand along the edge of a silk-upholstered futon. "This is crazier than that party your grandma had back in San Fran, and that was pretty crazy. Hey, do you have dungeons?"

"Uh," said Mia. "I haven't checked? Probably."

"Cool," said Michael. 

"You do have dungeons," said Lilly. "They're mainly for storing wine now."

"How do you know that?" said Mia, frowning at her.

"Advisor," said Lilly smugly. 

"Nosy," said Michael. 

"Do you really want to start?" said Lilly, "Because I'll-- "

"Guys," said Mia, failing pretty spectacularly at holding back a smile. "How 'bout we show Michael around the palace?"

"Palace, God," said Michael a little incredulously, shaking his head. 

"Come on, bro," said Lilly, hauling him by the elbow towards the door. "Prepare to be struck dumb."

"That impressive, is it?" said Michael. 

"We can only hope," said Lilly.

Michael tugged his elbow free and nudged her between the ribs, ducking into the corridor to avoid her answering blow. 

 

By the time the tour finished it was dinner time, and afterwards Mia shut herself in her room and tried to breathe out for the first time, it felt like, since Michael arrived. 

It didn't help that he'd spent the entirety of the tour directing deliberate questions at her with a simultaneous warning glance at Lilly, and exchanging familiar eyerolls over the top of Lilly's head when she couldn't be silenced just like he used to do when they all hung out back in San Francisco.

Mia groaned loudly-- she loved having a ridiculous-sized room to herself mostly because she could sing old Britney Spears songs in the mornings and shout when everything got a bit much and no one could hear (or would say anything if they did)-- and threw herself across the bed. 

God, she was so stupid. So _cliché_. Falling-- re-falling, if that was even a thing-- for her highschool boyfriend years after highschool finished. 

She sat up.

"Wait a minute," she said, " _Falling?_ Who said anything about falling?"

She glanced desperately around the rooms. 

"Louie?" she called. "Louie, come here. I need to talk to you."

Louie stretched in his Genovian sheepskin-lined bed and sauntered across the room to spring onto her bed. 

Mia scratched him absently behind the ears. "What would the people of Genovia think if they could see me now, huh?" she said. "Having a conversation with a cat. Not that you're just a cat, but they don't know that." Louie tilted his head. "I know, so not the point right now," said Mia. "But it's only been a day, right? This is probably just me projecting all that post-Nicholas stuff onto him. Plus he _is_ my ex-boyfriend, so it's totally normal that I still have-- feelings. Of some kind. Right, Louie?"

Louie blinked slowly. 

"Yeah," said Mia. "I think it's definitely time for bed."

She lifted Louie onto his pillow and switched off the lights, crawling under the covers with another long sigh. 

She was almost asleep when a knock at the door jerked her all the way awake again. 

"What now," she groaned, climbing clumsily out of bed and shuffling blearily to the door.

It was probably Lilly. She had a habit of knocking at all hours; whenever a thought she felt she had to share occurred to her. 

"Lilly, I swear I'm going to clear out the wine from the dungeons and have you-- oh." She blinked, running a hand automatically and fruitlessly through her tangled hair. "Michael, hey."

"Hey, Your Highness," said Michael, flicking his gaze to Mia's hair and smirking. 

"What's-- what's up?" 

"I was wondering if you could do anything about your housekeeper," said Michael. "She keeps muttering about unexpected guests and trying to put flowers in my room. It's nice, you know, but there are seven bunches already and I'm kind of tired. Unless I'm going to get sent to the dungeons for it, in which case I'm fine with flowers."

Mia laughed. "No, uh, no, that's fine. I'll tell her. Sorry."

"It's cool," said Michael. "Night, Mia."

"Goodnight," said Mia, shutting her door carefully and breathing out before she went to the phone. 

 

Mia woke early the next day, slipping out onto her favourite balcony to think. 

It wasn't the one attached to her rooms-- too obvious should anyone come looking for her-- but to a smaller sitting room that so far no one had cottoned on to her frequenting. The French doors leading onto the tiny stone balcony were covered over by heavy drapes, and all in all it was a pretty decent hiding spot, which was why Mia felt she was justified in jumping violently when the doors opened and she swayed for one terrifying, weightless moment before she grabbed onto the castle wall and regained her balance. 

"Seriously," said Michael, "With your track record _why_ would you think it's a good idea to sit on a railing without some kind of safety device?"

Mia huffed. "I wasn't exactly expecting company," she said. "How did you know I was here?"

"Saw you," said Michael, leaning over the railing beside where Mia was perched. "Still not over the jetlag." 

"Oh," said Mia. "I thought you were my grandma. She would've had a heart attack."

"Yeah?" said Michael mildly. "You kinda freaked me out as well."

"Sorry," said Mia. 

Michael shook his head and swung a leg over the railing, pulling himself up so he was sitting beside her. "For your own good," he explained. 

"What, you're gonna throw yourself off and break my fall?"

"Something like that," said Michael, grinning. 

Mia thought wildly and stupidly of the movie nights she used to have with her mom, when her mom would say, "If anyone asks, this is total mainstream crap and I'm only doing it to further your cultural education," and they'd sit on the couch with popcorn and hot chocolate and watch Titanic, and Jack would say _you jump, I jump_ and Mia and her mom would sigh in tandem. 

"So," said Michael. Mia blinked and stifled a laugh at herself, God. "How's the queen thing working out for you?"

Mia shrugged. "Well, I haven't started a war yet, so I guess things are looking good."

Michael laughed. "Can you actually do that?"

"I don't know," said Mia. "I haven't checked."

"You should look into it," said Michael, nodding. 

"Yeah?" said Mia absently. "So how's the rock star thing working out for you?"

"Oh, you know." Michael shrugged. "Beating off groupies, trashing hotel rooms, that kinda thing. It's okay."

Mia elbowed him in the side. "Seriously, it's good, right? I saw you guys on MTV. I've been meaning to tell you: that is _so cool_."

"You get MTV here?" said Michael.

"Of course we get MTV, I'm the queen, I can have whatever I want," said Mia, tilting her chin ridiculously. 

"See, I think that beats out being a rock star for coolness."

"It so does not," said Mia. "Come on, when people think of a queen they think of some prissy old lady with a perm. I wouldn't exactly call that cool."

"You run your own _country_."

"Rock star," said Mia.

"You have a _palace_."

" _Rock star_."

" _Queen_."

"Okay," said Mia, holding up a hand, "As _queen_ , I'm commanding you to drop it and also agree that you're cooler."

Michael laughed. "Man," he said. "Okay. But I still think you make a pretty kickass queen."

"Why thank you," said Mia, tipping as much of a curtsey as she could from her perch. 

Michael smiled out over the garden. The balcony was on the back of the palace; there were fewer guards for when she really didn't want to be found. 

After a moment he said, "So how are you really?"

Mia blinked. "I'm fine," she said. 

"Really?" said Michael. "You maybe wanna remember how I've known you since grade school and also those couple of years we dated and reconsider your answer?"

"Oh, shut up," said Mia. "I'm fine. I just." She shrugged. 

Michael waited. 

"I guess I'm still-- recovering from all the wedding crazy, and. It's like-- everyone's gone now, right? Andrew and Nicholas and his freaky uncle, and everything's back to normal except-- then I remember oh hey, I'm queen, this isn't exactly the most normal situation to begin with." Mia glanced at him, then away.

"Hey, I mean," Michael shrugged, "From what I hear, it was pretty crazy. I think you're doing okay, though."

Mia smiled. "I guess," she said. "I think I'm just kind of lonely. It's stupid."

"Even with Lilly the motormouth around?"

"She's going back to Berkeley soon," said Mia. 

"Ah." Michael nodded. "So you're pre-emptively lonely."

"Something like that," said Mia.

Michael nodded again, drawing his lips between his teeth. 

"Well," he said, "I don't know what your whole policy on leaving the country and attending rock concerts is, but there's always a backstage pass waiting for you at our gigs."

It wasn't a huge thing, but it was sweet and genuine and Mia felt a little like crying. She tried to rub inconspicuously at her eyes. 

It was a doomed mission from the start, really. Michael snorted a fond laugh and put an arm around her shoulders. 

"You're gonna be okay," he said. 

"Yeah," said Mia. She breathed out and tucked her head carefully, carefully under his chin. 

 

"Joe," said Mia, folding herself onto the couch. 

"Yes, your highness?" said Joe, looking up from his newspaper. 

"If you could manage to tear yourself away from Grandma for an hour or so, do you think you could do me a favour?"

"I imagine I could manage it," said Joe dryly. 

"Great," said Mia. "I need you to hang out with Michael."

Joe put his newspaper down. "Is there any particular reason it has to be me?"

Mia waved a hand. "Because you're a guy," she said. "You can talk about guy things."

"Mm-hmm," said Joe. "And what-- 'guy things' do you require me to discuss?"

"You know," said Mia. "General guy things. Drinking, sports-- ladies."

"Ladies," said Joe. 

"You know, is he dating anyone, that kind of thing."

Joe's mouth twitched. "And why can't you ask Michael yourself? Or his sister?"

"Because Michael would find it awkward," said Mia, "And Lilly would get suspicious."

"You think I'm not suspicious?" said Joe. 

"You think I think you're not suspicious?" said Mia to the ceiling. "Also, you're not Michael's brother, so it doesn't matter. Plus you're sworn to secrecy."

"Am I?" said Joe, sounding interested. 

Mia waved a hand. "I'm sure it's in some by-law or contract," she said. "And if it isn't, it's implied. And if it isn't implied, it's a requirement as part of the whole dating my grandma thing."

"Hmm," said Joe.

"Please?" said Mia. 

Joe sighed, reopening his newspaper with a snap. "Fine."

 

"There are no ladies," said Joe, sitting down at the breakfast table. 

Clarisse glanced up from her tea. "No ladies where?" she said.

"Really, Joe?" said Mia, cutting a glance at her grandmother.

"I'm sorry," said Joe, "Would you rather I wait until Miss Moscowitz arrives?"

"Touché," said Mia. 

"I'm sorry, what are we talking about?" said Clarisse.

"Nothing," said Mia, at the same time that Joe said, "Michael."

"Ah," said Clarisse, taking a knowing sip of her tea. 

"Oh my God, it's not a big deal," said Mia. "I just didn't think Michael would find it the least awkward conversation ever. Or me, for that matter."

"Indeed," said Joe. "As I said, in any case, there are no ladies."

"Are you sure?" said Mia. "He said something about groupies."

"I'm given to believe he occasionally employs sarcasm," said Joe. 

"Okay," said Mia. "You didn't tell him I told you to ask, right?"

Joe raised an eyebrow. 

"Okay, sorry, sorry," said Mia. 

"Mia," said Clarisse, setting her teacup down on its saucer, "Are you considering starting a relationship with Michael again?"

"No," said Mia. "I mean, it's not really up to me. I just." She shrugged. "I've missed him. I kind of didn't realise 'til he arrived, which is stupid, but-- "

Clarisse held up a hand. "For the record," she said, "I liked him much better than Nicholas."

Mia choked on her toast. "Thanks, grandma," she said. 

 

In the afternoon Mia went down to the stables to spend some time with Pegasus, the Arabian her grandma had given her for her twenty-first birthday. It had been weird-- it was still weird, honestly, like, she owned a _horse_ , what the actual hell, because even if she was now technically a Queen or whatever she'd still grown up in a loft in San Francisco. She kind of liked him, though, so her own stupid brain and anyone else who had opinions could suck it. He was pretty, to begin with-- or well, handsome, since he was a dude, she supposed: pure white descending to pale grey around his flank, speckled there with starry spots of the same white he was everywhere else. She hadn't named him-- he'd come already christened from a failed dressage career, according to her grandma, but despite it being a bit of a cliché she could see why the previous owners had gone with Pegasus. Even if they were total douches who'd sold him because of a "flawed temperament." It was maybe part of the reason why she was so attached-- like, who were they to tell him he was flawed? It was like highschool all over again. Mia could totally empathise. 

Anyway, she didn't have a lot of time to spare for him, with the whole Queen thing, which made her feel endlessly guilty, but at least the horse seemed to like living here. 

It was pretty nice, if she said so herself. Plus she'd personally made sure the stablehands were actual decent people who wouldn't give him a hard time. 

Not that she thought her grandma would hire evil horse bullies, or anything. Still, it didn't hurt to be a hundred per cent sure. 

She had the afternoon off, so she dressed down (they had all the proper gear, jodhpurs and riding boots and waistcoats, but that was a little too much for Mia; honestly she still wasn't over being Queen and now she had a horse on top of it) and took him out for a leisurely, lengthy ride. 

She was getting pretty good at it, too. She'd been terrified at first; completely justifiably-- it wasn't like she had the greatest track record at being, you know, _not clumsy_ when doing anything ever, but it actually wasn't too bad. He was a nice horse, calm and patient, and if he had a tendency to stop abruptly at random points during a ride to cock his head and sniff at-- well, Mia wasn't sure what at, it was probably for the best anyway, since Mia tended to freak out if they went too fast or too far away. 

They stuck within eyeshot of the palace, which considering its size and everything wasn't actually that close, and it was nice, being able to turn her face to the wind and sun and not worry about how tangled her hair was getting or how she probably needed to replace the sweatpants she was wearing, since there were now three holes and counting in the left leg. 

She kept up a running one-sided conversation with Pegasus, because this was a thing she did now, apparently, talking to her pets like they were her therapists.

"There are no ladies, did you know that, Peg?" she said as they skirted around the small pear orchard they kept on the palace grounds, because, according to Clarisse, if your country was famous for its pear industry it was only right you displayed them in your home. "So he's not dating anyone. Which is good. Do we think that's good? I mean, I don't want to think it's _good_ good because that would mean I'm, like, into him again or something. I talked about this with Louie the other night. Like, obviously I still like him-- he's Michael, I'm always going to like Michael. But do I want to date him again is the question? It's just-- is this me being weird after Nicholas, or is this actually something I _want?_ " She sighed, patting Pegasus' mane when he stopped to survey the edge of the orchard. "I guess I'd forgotten how much he got me. Plus, like-- he's changed, but in a good way. It's like how it was in highschool only not, you know, 'cause we've grown up, and I think that's good, but." She broke off again. "I don't even know what I'm saying. He probably doesn't even feel the same, anyway. We're pretty good friends, that's probably all it is to him now."

Pegasus snorted and started walking again.

"You're right," said Mia. "I need to stop talking and do something. I should just hang out with him some more, you think? See if this goes away or gets worse before he has to take Lilly back to Berkeley."

Pegasus made a whinnying noise. 

"Yeah," said Mia, "He could stay longer, but I seriously think Lilly might try to trick a full-time advisor position out of me and, like, write her Berkeley thesis here. About me. Which-- she's my best friend and everything but she psychoanalyses me enough in person, I don't need it down in writing as well."

"Anyway," she added in the end, as they headed back to the stables, "Hanging out. I can totally do that. I'll come back soon and tell you how it goes."

 

"Where've you been, Your Majesty?" said Michael as she walked back into the palace. 

He was lounging against one of the stone bannisters, doing something on his phone. He glanced up just as Mia mounted the top of the stairs. 

"Riding," said Mia without thinking.

Michael blinked at her. "Like-- riding a _horse?_ " he said incredulously.

"Yes," said Mia, tilting her chin.

Michael didn't say anything for a moment. He looked conflicted, kind of disbelieving and worried and like he was trying not to laugh all at once. 

"Are you-- like, seriously?" he said at last. 

"Seriously," said Mia. "Why is it so hard to believe?"

"Seriously?" said Michael again. 

"I think we should both agree to stop saying seriously," said Mia. 

"Okay," said Michael. His mouth twitched. "How are you allowed to ride a horse, though? I mean, I know you're queen but surely there are some kind of rules designed to, like, keep you alive."

"I'm an excellent equestrian, I'll have you know," said Mia.

"Right," said Michael. "Must've missed all those riding lessons back in San Fran."

Mia let herself smile. "My grandma gave him to me," she said. "It's-- it's not that hard. I kind of like it, you know? I can't do anything fancy, but. It's like-- going for a walk, only way cooler."

"Does Lilly know about this?" said Michael, tilting his head.

"Don't even," said Mia, shuddering at the memory. "I got an hour-long lecture on how I was turning into a pretentious country club douche."

Michael laughed. "Sounds about right," he said. 

"Do you think I'm a pretentious country club douche?" said Mia, laughing a bit.

Michael frowned thoughtfully. "I think you're a twenty-one year-old monarch who should get to ride her goddamned horse if she wants to," he said. 

"Thanks." Mia smiled.

"Anytime," said Michael, smiling back. "Nice pants, by the way. Very country club."

"Shut up," said Mia, brushing a hand self-consciously over the tear baring the bone in her left knee. 

Michael's eyes crinkled as he looked back down at his phone. "You're a pretty badass queen," he said.

"I-- thanks," said Mia again, stupidly. Michael didn't look back up and she moved inside slowly, warm and anxious all at once. 

 

She woke the next morning with Lilly's face about two inches from hers. 

Obviously she did the only logical thing, which was scream and slap Lilly. 

"Jesus, princess," said Lilly, leaning back with a hand on her cheek.

"Sorry," said Mia, sitting up ungracefully and wincing. "I just-- what are you _doing?_ "

"Are you still in love with Michael?" said Lilly.

"What?" said Mia shrilly. "No, of course not. What the hell."

Lilly narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not!" said Mia, scrubbing a hand through her hair. 

"Only, you know," said Lilly, "It wasn't completely necessary for him to come all the way to Genovia under the pretence of caring about his little sister."

"He cares about you, idiot," said Mia automatically. And then, "Wait, what are you saying? Do you think he-- " She cut herself off. It was coming out far more hopeful than she'd like. 

Lilly stood up. "I'm watching you," she said ominously as she left the room.

Mia blinked at Louie. "Sometimes I really feel like I need new friends," she said. 

 

The next days were dedicated to organising the upcoming state dinner, which happened (unfortunately, seriously, she probably wasn't supposed to think it as queen but she'd much rather be doing other things) to fall on Lilly's last night in Genovia before heading back to Berkeley. 

It wasn't like Mia was ever hugely involved in the actual planning, but since she was queen she had to sit at the stupidly ornate conference table with her chin in her palm and nod agreeably when people placed pictures of centerpieces and candles and lighting arrangements and exotic flowers that had to be imported from some equatorial country or other in front of her. The only thing she really had any interest in was the menu, which-- "No," she said, "No quails, come on, those things are tiny, how could anyone eat them? They look like the babies of like, every bird ever."

Charlotte looked pained. "But Your Highness-- "

"No quails," said Mia firmly. 

Charlotte sighed in defeat.

Mia smiled to herself. Lilly would totally appreciate that. 

Speaking of-- "What do we have in the way of vegetarian options?" she asked. 

"Salad," muttered one of Charlotte's assistants meanly.

Charlotte shushed her. "All dietary requirements are fully catered for," she said. 

"Okay," said Mia. 

"Now, the dress code," started Charlotte. 

"No ballgowns," said Mia.

Charlotte frowned. "It might be hard to stop some of the guests from wearing ballgowns," she said. "You know how royalty likes to show off when they get together."

"Do you think I could, like, specify a maximum width for skirts?" said Mia curiously. "Because that thing the French ambassador's wife wore last time was atrocious. I had to help shove her through the bathroom door, Charlotte, I was _traumatised_."

Charlotte quirked a smile. "We may be able to get away with semi-formal," she said. "Black ties and evening dresses."

"No tailcoats?" said Mia suspiciously.

"That's formal," said Charlotte, for probably the thousandth time in the series of state dinners Mia had participated in. "White ties and ballgowns."

"Ugh," said Mia. 

"Black tie then," said Charlotte, making a note of it. 

"Awesome," said Mia.

"I think that's all for today," said Charlotte.

"Awesomer!" said Mia, bounding to her feet. 

 

"So how's the event planning going, Your Majesty?" said Lilly later. The three of them were camped out in Mia's rooms watching the new Batman movie Michael had brought with him.

Mia shrugged. "I talked them out of serving quail," she said. "And it's only second-tier formal, so hopefully no mile-wide dresses this time."

"You're dreaming too big," said Lilly.

"Probably," said Mia. 

"Hang on, what?" said Michael. 

Lilly threw a pillow at him for no apparent reason. "The state dinner, idiot," she said. 

"Those happen a lot, hey?" said Michael, emerging a little disheveled from Lilly's attack, hair all in his eyes. Mia swallowed and looked away. 

"Too often," said Lilly darkly. "I've managed to avoid them up until now, but _someone_ is forcing me to come to this one."

"It's your last night!" said Mia.

"Exactly why I shouldn't have to come," said Lilly. "Isn't it about doing what _I_ want?"

"No," said Mia. "It's about spending quality time together."

"Oh right, that," said Lilly, wrinkling her nose.

"You're a terrible friend," said Mia easily. 

"Shove it, queenie, I spent my entire summer here with you," said Lilly.

"Do I have to come to this thing?" said Michael.

"Yes," said Lilly immediately. "If I have to suffer, so do you."

"You're such a giving sister," said Michael, rolling his eyes.

"It's how our parents raised us, bro," said Lilly.

Michael threw the pillow back at her. "Will there be cheeseburgers?" he said.

"Oh my God," said Mia, tipping her head back to groan at the ceiling. 

"It's tough being queen," said Michael, patting her leg mockingly. He smiled at her, though, amused and real.

"I hate you both," said Mia. "Maybe I will change it to white tie. _Ballgowns_ ," she said threateningly to Lilly, and, " _Tailcoats_ ," to Michael. 

"Alright, alright!" said Lilly, holding up her hands in tandem with Michael. 

"Good," said Mia smugly, settling more firmly into the couch. 

Then she realised what had just happened, which was that Michael was now coming to the dinner, and-- _shit_.

 

"I need Paolo," said Mia desperately, cornering her grandma and Joe before Lilly or Michael made it to breakfast. 

Clarisse frowned. "It's just a state dinner," she said. "What on earth do you need Paolo for?"

"I just do," said Mia. "Grandma, please."

"Well, I-- " Clarisse looked around. "I don't even know if Paolo's in the country."

"He's in Paris," said Joe.

Everyone looked at Joe. 

He shrugged. "Habit."

"Paris!" said Mia. "That's close. We can fly him out in time, can't we?"

 

It was weird how getting Paolo involved made it feel like kind of a huge deal. Like-- was she actually trying to get Michael back now, for real? 

It was also a bit stupid, because clearly Michael knew what she looked like dressed up or dressed down, or not even dressed at all, for that matter. 

Yeah, she kind of had no idea what she was doing.

She contemplated going to the stables for another chat with Pegasus, but probably an animal wasn't going to cut it this time. 

 

"Mia," said Clarisse, wandering unannounced into Mia's rooms. Or well, her grandma didn't _wander_ so much as glide elegantly, or whatever, but still. "May I ask, what on earth is going on with you?"

"What?" said Mia, blinking and looking up from her laptop. "Nothing, I'm fine, grandma."

"Paolo?" said Clarisse, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh," said Mia. "I-- I may have panicked? It was an accident, I swear."

"Panicked about what?" said Clarisse, sitting delicately in one of Mia's chairs. 

Mia chewed on her lip for a long time (Clarisse must have been in a pretty sympathetic mood, because she didn't even comment on it) before she mumbled, "Michael."

"Ah," said Clarisse knowingly. 

"I just," said Mia, throwing her laptop aside carelessly, "I don't _know_ , I mean, I don't know if this is just a reaction to breaking up with Nicholas and I don't know what to _do_ , because what if it is? Or what if I'm just projecting my-- my loneliness of whatever onto him because we already dated? I'd feel awful."

Clarisse tilted her head. "Michael cares about you," she said.

"I know," said Mia quietly. "Not like-- I don't know if it's like _that_ anymore, though."

"If you feel like 'that,'" said Clarisse, "Regardless of why, you need to give it a chance. You'll have enough to worry about as queen, you don't need to wonder about this for the rest of your life as well."

"I-- I guess," said Mia, running a hand through her hair. It was so much easier said than done, God. 

"Besides," said Clarisse, smirking. "Michael would make a much better consort than Nicholas."

"Oh my God," said Mia. "We're not talking about _marriage_ here, we're talking about maybe possibly trying the whole dating thing again. _Maybe_."

"I know," said Clarisse, standing. "Give it a chance."

"I'll. Yeah, I'll try," said Mia slowly as her grandma left. 

She shook her head and scooped up her sweater. She needed to clear her head. 

 

She collided headlong with Michael as she stepped outside one of the kitchen entrances to go for a walk. 

"Oh," she said, blinking. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," said Michael, smiling. 

"I'm just-- just going for a walk," said Mia stupidly. 

"You don't need bodyguards or something?"

"There are literally guards everywhere, it's the royal palace," said Mia. 

"I thought they were just ornamental," said Michael, smirking. 

Mia laughed. "Not all of them," she said. "Apparently. I've never seen them in action."

"Sucks," said Michael. "Hey, you mind if I tag along?"

"Oh," said Mia. "No, I mean, that's-- that's fine."

"Cool." Michael grinned and fell into step beside her. "I was just-- we haven't really had a chance to hang since I got here, you know?"

"We watched Batman," said Mia helpfully.

"Lilly was there," said Michael. "Doesn't count."

"Oh," said Mia again. Her cheeks felt kind of hot. 

"I guess I kind of-- " Michael chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a moment. "Two years is a long time, you know?"

"Yeah," said Mia quietly. 

"I mean, things are fucking awesome, really, I've got a proper band now and you're queen, but I still-- sometimes I miss San Fran, and-- and everything."

"Me too," said Mia. "I think I-- I don't think I realised how good things were then. I mean, not that they're bad now, I'm not complaining, but it was just _easy_ , and I kind of assumed everything would always be that way, everything would be okay and stay the same, even after I found out about being a princess and everything, which is stupid. I mean, obviously things were going to change, but-- "

"We were kids," Michael cut across quietly, shrugging. "That's how it goes, right? Then you grow up."

"Yeah," said Mia. It was weird, this ache she got sometimes, to just be at home in her loft bedroom with her mom painting downstairs and Michael on the phone and nothing to worry about except her grades and when she'd squeeze the time to see people between homework and sleeping. 

Michael-- she didn't quite know how to explain it, the way Michael being here again and just being _Michael_ kind of bridged that gap between then and now, between easy and difficult, between selfishness and responsibility. The way it felt a lot like something quiet and solid and warm that had been missing for a long time. 

"It doesn't have to suck, though," said Michael after a long moment, kind of determinedly. 

"Doesn't it?" Mia laughed a little, mostly joking. 

Michael nudged her with his elbow. "No," he said. "I'm starting to think this is the part that sucks the most, the whole-- trying to get it together bit. You know, back then we were too young to care about having our shit sorted, and we weren't supposed to, either, and now it's-- now we know there's stuff we should be doing and figuring out and whatever, and that's hard, but once we do it's-- it'll be great. Like back then, but better."

"I-- yeah," said Mia. "I hope so."

"You'll see," said Michael. "I'm starting to see." He put on a smug tone of superiority and added, "It's pretty awesome."

"Screw you," said Mia, giggling. "Shut up."

 

So it was kind of-- things were good with Michael, like, _interesting_ , and maybe they were even getting somewhere, but it was slow, and then it was Lilly's last night in Genovia and Mia still hadn't screwed up the courage to say anything, or even figured out whether she _should_. Or, okay, that part was a lie she was telling herself to feel better about the coward thing, because her grandma was right, if Michael went away without her _knowing_ she'd probably be a super shitty queen until the next time she saw him, and who knew when that would be unless she _did_ something. 

God, you'd think not being a teenager anymore would preclude you from all that uncertainty. She was beginning to think it maybe never went away, though. 

Which sucked, but also made her feel better about it, because hey, if that was just how things went then it wasn't really her fault, right?

"Mia!" snapped Lilly.

Mia blinked. "What?" she said. 

"Your maid is _torturing_ me," said Lilly. 

"Well, if you'd just gone out and bought a dress like I told you, we wouldn't have to be finding you one at the last minute," said Mia, trying not to laugh as she watched Lilly get painstakingly zipped into the fifth dress she'd tried on so far.

"Do you have anything black?" said Lilly. 

"We're not going to a funeral," said Mia.

"Could've fooled me." Lilly frowned.

Mia rolled her eyes. "Quit being such a baby," she said. "I'm going to get ready."

"What?" said Lilly. "You're abandoning me on my _last night_ in Genovia?"

"Oh my God, I'll be half an hour. I thought I was the needy one," said Mia, standing. 

"Shut up, loser," said Lilly, making a face into the mirror and shaking her head. "No, I don't like this one either."

Mia left the room with Lilly's voice echoing after her, demanding, "Something _black_ , I don't care what her stupid highness says."

 

"Mia?" said Michael, stepping unannounced into her room. 

Mia screeched and dropped the two tubes of lipstick she was holding contemplatively to either side of her face, drawing her robe tight across her front and ducking into the dressing room. 

"Shit," she said, breathing hard. "Sorry, uh. You scared me."

"The door was open," said Michael. He sounded bemused and also a lot like he was trying not to laugh.

"I know, I'm expecting someone," said Mia.

There was a very long silence. "Uh," said Michael at last, "Okay, I'll-- "

"Oh!" Mia slapped a hand to her forehead. "Not like-- no, I'm. It's not. Uh. Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering," said Michael, and great, now he was back to laughing at her-- although, Mia supposed, that was better than thinking she was conducting some kind of weird secret rendezvous in here, like there was anyone else she'd be doing that with-- "If I need to wear a tux again."

"Again?" said Mia. 

"The ball," said Michael. "In San Fran."

"Oh!" said Mia. "Really? Are you still traumatised by that?"

"I'm not traumatised," said Michael. "I just think I looked kind of stupid. Not all of us can pull off ball gowns and tiaras." 

Mia laughed, then bit down on her lip, toying with the edge of her robe and kind of insanely glad that Michael couldn't see her more than likely ridiculous expression right now. 

"I don't think you looked stupid," she said. 

"Thanks," said Michael. It sounded like he was smiling. Mia hoped he was smiling. "Uh," he added, after a silence, "So. Tux, yes or no?"

"Oh!" said Mia. "No, it's just a state dinner, you'll be fine with a nice suit."

"Are you sure?" said Michael. "If it's just a state dinner, why are you flying in Paolo?"

Mia froze. "How do you know I'm flying in Paolo?" she said. 

"Never mind how I know," said Michael. "So if it's not important, what's going on? Are you trying to impress someone?"

"No," said Mia, scoffing. "Why would I be trying to impress someone?"

There was a rustling sound like Michael was shrugging.

Mia bit down on her lip again. 

"Mia, come on," said Michael. "I feel like I'm talking to myself out here. It's not like I care what you look like."

"Oh," said Mia. She made a face at herself in the mirror, a _duh, what the hell were you thinking_ face, and stepped out into the main room, hugging her robe tight around her. 

"I didn't-- " said Michael, frowning, "That didn't come out right. I mean you don't need Paolo to make you look good. I think you look great all on your own."

"Oh," said Mia again. Her pulse fluttered in her chest, thrumming between her ribs.

"So is-- " said Michael, and paused. "Seriously, you're not-- there's no one? Because I was-- I'd kind of like to kiss you right now."

Mia pulled her lips between her teeth so she wouldn't smile too stupidly. Although, when she thought about it, it was probably a lose-lose situation. "Well," she said, "There was someone-- "

Michael's face fell. 

"I mean you!" said Mia hastily. "Oh my God, I wasn't-- okay, this is embarrassing, uh-- "

Michael stepped forward and kissed her, grinning against her mouth. 

"Yeah," said Mia, "Good idea," and kissed him back, slotting her smile against his. 

Michael slid one hand into her hair, the other trailing along the edge of her robe where it curved over her collarbone, knuckles sliding to brush against her neck. He clearly remembered how she used to like that; Mia felt the warmth pooling low in her belly and moved her hands to fold over his hips, stepping back and hoping she was in line with a piece of wall. 

She tripped, of course, on something scratchy and elastic-- a bra, oh God, what was _wrong_ with her-- and ended up pressed against the doorframe to the dressing room instead of the wall, but hey, it was solid, if a little uncomfortable. Michael was biting gently on her lip, anyway, his body slotted firm and warm against hers, so it wasn't like she really cared all that much. 

Or, well, until an unmistakable voice cried out, harsh and high-pitched, "Ah, Madonna! Regina, call the guards, there is a _demonio_ attacking your granddaughter!"

Michael jumped back, glancing desperately around the room and looking hunted. Mia caught hold of her robe again, tugging it to cover all traces of the underwear she had on underneath. 

"What on earth is all this shouting about?" said Clarisse, following Paolo into the room. 

Paolo pointed at Michael, eyes wide and seemingly speechless. Michael glanced at Mia. 

"Mia?" said Clarisse. 

"It's nothing, grandma," said Mia. "Michael was just here to ask about the dress code for tonight, and Paolo's never met him before so he freaked out a little."

"Ah," said Paolo slowly. He grinned slowly and winked at Michael. "Paolo understands now, si? Ha!" He clapped his hands. "So, we begin!"

"Ah, actually," said Mia, glancing at Michael. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Paolo, you know, I think-- I think I'm okay. I'm sorry we flew you all the way out here, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like and come to the dinner, of course, and-- "

"Wait." Paolo held up a hand. "Paolo does not understand. Did he do something wrong?"

"No!" said Mia, glancing beseechingly at Clarisse, "I just-- "

"I think what Mia is trying to say," said Clarisse, "Is that we have a much more-- challenging project for you tonight. After all, you did such a fine job with Mia last time, there really isn't much more to do."

"This is true," said Paolo proudly. "You have someone else for Paolo? Take me to her!"

Mia frowned. "Who-- "

Michael's smirk was widening to truly terrifying proportions as he cottoned on. "Lilly," he said. 

"Oh!" said Mia. "No, grandma, she'll _kill_ me-- "

"Oh, hush," said Clarisse, holding an arm out to direct Paolo from the room. "She'll do nothing of the sort."

"Have you _met_ her?" said Mia.

Clarisse smiled. "Well, perhaps in the future she'll think twice about lending our front lawn to her protesters. Really, I sympathise with the northern white-cheeked gibbon, but I hardly understand what she imagines we can do about it. The lawn hasn't been the same in weeks. Paolo, please follow me."

She held out her hand to usher Paolo from the room. Michael watched them go looking half-scared, half-impressed. "You're grandma's kind of evil," he said.

"I know," said Mia. "It's awesome."


End file.
